


Marital Bliss

by SilviaKundera



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M, Same-Sex Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/216086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilviaKundera/pseuds/SilviaKundera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the "Let’s Get Married!" gay marriage comment fic meme. Here’s a little tale of how Sean and Eduardo get married in New York 2011 and Mark does not support this fuckery. Really, he’s doesn’t. At all. You can’t make him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marital Bliss

Sean sent the announcement and a wide array of pictures out to his entire contact list, because that was just the kind of person he was. The Stonewall Democrats mailing list was even cc’d. Like he had ever gone to a single meeting. He probably just sent in the occasional donation after sleeping with a guy.

Eduardo was smiling and red faced in one of the photos, arm slung sloppily over Sean’s shoulders. There was a smudge of pink frosting at the corner of his mouth. It was gone in most of the later ones, after that shot of them enthusiastically kissing while a small crowd of people with rainbow buttons and sweaty faces clapped.

Chris’ disapproval was clear through the phone. "They’ve only been dating for four months."

"I didn’t know he was back in the country," Dustin said.

"Nnng," said Mark.

*

It wasn’t that this whole overblown spectacle was worth two or five hours of Mark’s time, it’s just that this was all very upsetting and Mark had nothing else he could do while they waited for the backup to finish. Sure, he had his laptop and the television and there were a couple people over, but,

"They’re probably having tender, intimate sex in a bathtub somewhere lit with scented candles, while mooning at each other and holding hands to look at their rings together, unaware of the skin irritant properties of bubble bath on the delicate membranes of Eduardo’s ass."

"god Mark," Chris said weakly, "some people might be happy for them."

"No one would be happy for them."

"I’m happy for them," Chris contested pointedly.

"No one in my position would be happy to see their success story co-opted into this romanticized travesty," Mark said. It wasn’t even _his_ story anymore. The birth of Facebook and corresponding sacrifice of the most pivotal friendship of Mark’s life was now the background setting for true love and gay civil rights. "They would just _think_ it instead of being honest."

"You are truly a horrible person." There was wonder in Chris’ voice.

"When Diego starts dating again I’m going to remind you of this," said Mark.

*

Sean was grinning stupidly in the fourth picture, reminiscent of that morning they realized they’d hit 500,000 users -- a little drunk from beer but mostly on adrenaline, unselfconscious and delighted with the world. You could see Eduardo’s elbow in the corner. In the next picture Eduardo’s eyes were closed and he was beating back Sean’s hands, which looked to be directed to his already mussed hair. There was a laughing woman in a pants suit who Mark didn’t recognize, holding a cup of dangerously green punch. Eduardo might have been trying to dance in the eighth one, but Mark flipped quickly past it because that was just too embarrassing to handle.

*

"You are going to send them a gift," Dustin said.

"No I’m not," Mark stated unequivocally, as a man of integrity and steel resolve.

*

There was this shot that should have been tossed, because everyone had red eyes and the couple waving in the corner were blurred. Sean was wrapped around Eduardo from behind, Sean’s left arm around his waist and his right arm coming over Eduardo’s shoulder to clutch his chest. His face was tucked into Eduardo’s neck, maybe jokingly biting at him or resting or hiding from the flash.

Mark wasn’t sure why they’d kept that one, because they looked sort of goofy. He guessed that it was how young Eduardo looked in that moment, everything in his body curving back like falling was impossible.

*

He gave them matching brown leather excursion travel cases with brass hooks, silk lining, and personalized plaques that bore their inconveniently long, new hyphenated names.

The card read: "Just so you know, this doesn’t mean I approve."

An email from the.parkman@gmail arrived in his inbox three days later that said, "we love you too buddy."

*

This would be a little unnerving for anyone and a very good reason to turn the conversation elsewhere, to what they had been getting up to separately and now together, and not at all about making up for lost time. Then there were some open ended follow up questions that spawned a few dozen more emails and posts on his wall—but those were the perils of the new social media world.

So when Mark accepted an invitation to dinner next time he was in the area, it certainly wasn’t because he wanted to play a supporting role ( _of all things_ ) in their ridiculous farce.

He was just being polite.

"I’m just being polite," he informed his mother when making plans to drop by the weekend after his stop in New York.

"Of course, honey," she said, with an insulting level of bemusement.

"I’m serious."

"I know, how silly for me to think it might make you feel good in the slightest to see that nice boy smile again after everything you two went through."

"Shut up," Mark might have said, except you didn’t say shut up to your mother, even if you were Mark Zuckerberg.

"That was seven years ago," he told her instead.

"Not that you’ve been keeping track," she said knowingly.

"Yes, I do try to retain a basic situational awareness of _the progression of time_."

"Tell them if they don’t want to fly out all the way to Miami, they can come have Thanksgiving with us this year. And bring pictures of the wedding. You know how I’ve never liked those online albums. They never open up right on my computer. It’s just not the same."

"I’m not going to invite them to Thanksgiving," Mark said, appalled.

*

"That would be nice," Eduardo said. "I haven’t seen your mom in so long and by then Sean will be sick of just my company."

"I don’t think that’s possible," Sean said, rubbing a thumb over Eduardo’s cheek bone and then cupping the back of his neck to attempt to swallow his head in a truly obscene manner, completely grossing Mark out. There were open mouths and tongues and Sean made this _sound_.

"You’re disgusting," Mark informed them. The woman at the next table was practically cooing at them, which was even worse.

"mm," Eduardo said, pulling back to pick up his menu. "So you’re not staying for desert?"

"I like their flourless chocolate cake," Mark explained. "But fine, show me your overpriced jewelry. That will serve the extra function of keeping your hands where I can see them."

It was -- jewelry. A subject in which Mark was not well versed. Not unattractive, matching jewelry, a certificate, more paperwork, and he supposed that they would file their taxes together now, which might count as fun for certain anal retentive people.

If they got in a horrific car wreck the whole marriage thing might come in handy, Mark was willing to concede.

*

And if there was a certain brightness in Eduardo’s eyes when he looked down at Sean’s finger that was not entirely unpleasant to behold -- no one could prove anything. He had allergies.

Sean would testify to that. Or else.


End file.
